Catnip
by lucindamellark
Summary: What would it be like if the Hunger Games characters read the Hunger Games trilogy?
1. Chapter 1

_I did not steal my idea from anyone. Or anything. I really liked the idea, and I hope you all like the story! I do not own anything._

Fame and Fortune vs. Certain Death.

I wake up screaming for my father to run. My body is covered in sweat, and my recent nightmare had been about the mine explosion my father was killed in. I kept on telling him to run, but he kept on mining, laughing with his friends. "RUN!" I screamed, before I was blown into blindness. I got up, shivering and trying to clear the nightmare from my thoughts…..again. This same nightmare plagues me every night, and not once am I able to stop him or get his attention. The last thing I see is his laugh changing to a look of shock and then getting blown into bits. To get my mind off things, I dress in my normal hunting clothes and headed into the living room.

"Prim?" I call. "Mom?" At least one of them waits until I get up to go to town. Where are they?

"Katniss, honey?" my mother responds. "Are you awake?"

"Yes. Mom, where's Prim?" I ask.

"Oh, she was summoned somewhere. Haymitch Abernathy came to get her this morning. That reminds me, their waiting for you. Here's the address." She says, and then leaves the room. She handed me a sheet of paper that has a place scrawled on it. I decide not to call her back and ask any of the questions that just popped into my mind, and head for the address. It's Haymitch Abernathy's house, the only living District 12 victor of the Hunger Games. I decide not to think about the Hunger Games right now. Truly, thinking about them makes me sick. But don't worry; I'm sure it'll pop up soon enough. As for District 12, you might be wondering what that is. Well, out of the ashes of "North America" rose Panem, ringed by 13 Districts and a Capitol. Quite a while ago, the Darks Day's arose, where there was a war. Capitol vs. Districts. The Capitol won, and to prove their superiority, District 13 got destroyed and the Hunger Games were born. Once again, I won't talk about the Games. They truly make me sick.

I get to the house in no time, and stop in front of the door. I ring the doorbell and Prim opens the door. She hugs me quickly, takes my hand, and leads me to the living room. Is that what you call this gigantic mess? All throughout the house is garbage. The smell of liquor and bile is enough to knock you unconscious. How does someone live in this condition?

"What's going on, Prim?" I ask. She just silently puts her finger to her lips and leads me to the couch. It appears to be the only clean spot in this house. Seating on and around it are a crowd of people who I have no idea how they all got together here. Finnick Odair, who lives in District 4 and was a Victor for the Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark, who I will not get into detail with, Gale Hawthorne, my hunting partner and best friend, Haymitch Abernathy, already explained who he was, Johanna Mason, lives in District 7 and was a Victor of the Hunger Games, and 4 other people who I have no idea who they are.

"Katniss. Welcome." Says Haymitch. "You're probably wondering why you're here. Well….so am I. Today a suspicious package showed up on my doorstep, along with a list. You were on this list. Simple enough, right? Everyone here was on this list. Beats me why…..but you all are. Including me. The package has books-"

"Books? I came here to read a book? You're kidding me, right?" says Johanna. I can't help agreeing with her. Why do we need to read a book?

Haymitch shoots daggers at Johanna. "Anyway, before I get to the books, I will ask you to all say your name.

"Thresh" says the boy with dark skin.

"Rue" says a little girl around Prim's age that has the same skin colour as the boy.

"Johanna Mason" says Johanna.

"Finnick Odair," says Finnick.

"Gale Hawthorne" says Gale.

"Peeta Mellark" says Peeta.

"Chaff" says a man sitting next to Haymitch.

"Beetee" says a man with huge glasses.

"Primrose Everdeen" says Prim.

"Uh, and I'm Katniss Everdeen" I say.

"Excellent. For those of you who aren't aware, although I find that highly unlikely, my name is Haymitch Abernathy. Winner of the 50th Quarter Quell. Famous for-"

"We get it." I snap, annoyed.

"Oh, feisty, this one." Says Finnick. This makes both Gale and Peeta raise their heads, glaring at him.

"Can we please just get to the "suspicious package"" mocks Johanna.

"Okay. Fine. These books are based on something we all know. The Hunger Games. This didn't surprise me much, considering everyone knows about the Hunger Games. But why were they delievered to my house, you may ask-"

"Really, because none of us asked" says Finnick.

"Shut up! As I was saying, the reason why these books were delivered to my house was because they have every person who was on the list in them. There are 3 books. So, a trilogy."

"No. Really?" says Johanna, "I would have never guessed."

"ANYWAY, I read the note and it says that these books would be useful in a way that they determine the future. What is going to happen today, tomorrow, next year? In 10 years?-"

"How about right now" says Gale. Murmurs of agreement go among the group.

"Fine. The first person to read the book will be you, Everdeen."

"There's two of us." I say.

"_Katniss _Everdeen" Haymitch repeats.

"Oh, yay. Excellent. Just a question, but where _are _the books, exactly?" I ask.

"Oh, right. Here." Says Haymitch, handing me a box. Inside are 3 books, the first one with a picture of a Mockingjay…pin?

"Are you sure you want to read these?" I ask.

"Positive. Now read." Haymitch responds.

I open the book, and begin Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

_I did not steal my idea from anyone. Or anything. I really liked the idea, and I hope you all like the story! I do not own anything._

_When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold._

"Okay, so what I'm getting from the person…is that she's/he's divorced?" says Johanna.

"What a wonderful way to start a book" says Finnick, "I wake up and the other side of the bed is cold…..ha. That's rich. I could use that."

_My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress_

"Wow, Prim is a strange name for a guy." Says Finnick.

"I'M Prim" shouts Prim.

"Oh….i'm not understanding this" says Finnick.

"Really, you don't have to." Says Peeta.

_She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping._

"So, let me get this straight. This is from Katniss' point of view?" says Gale.

"Yup" I say.

"And this is the day of the reaping?" he asks.

"Yup. Wasn't it obvious?" Katniss says.

_I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them._

"WAIT! Stop there. Who's "them"?" asks Finnick.

"I don't know. Why don't we read and find out?" Peeta asks.

_My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother's look younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. _

Finnick is laughing hysterically, so hard, that he falls off the edge of the couch that he was sitting on and into the mess beside the couch. He continues laughing though.

"Cheeks….pressed…together…"

"Ha. Very funny. Ya, honestly, can't you see me laughing hysterically?" says Johanna.

_Sitting at Prim's knees, guarding her is the world's ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy coat matched the bright flower. He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home._

"Animal Abuse!" shouts Beetee.

"I second that." Says Johanna.

"The cat is in the bed, too?" asks Finnick.

"Really Finnick, really?" asks Peeta.

"No wonder why he distrusts you" says Thresh.

"A bucket would be a bad place to die" says Rue.

_Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he's a born mouser. Even the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid into a cap, and grab my forage bag._

"Wait….wait…wait. She was naked before?" asks Finnick.

"Are you an idiot? NO!" I say.

"Sheesh, just a question."

"A stupid one."

"A question's a question."

"I could honestly care less."

_Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many who have stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can._

"Dun, dun, dunnnn." Says Finnick.

"What?" Gale asks.

"If you can. You don't find that creepy?"

_Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field I called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed –wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods—packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears—that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is alive. Right now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here._

"Seam?" asks Johanna.

"That fence sounds quite frightening," says Beetee.

"A fence can't be alive. That's just ridiculous." says Finnick.

"Really? That's ridiculous?" says Gale.

"What? Look at that fence. It's alive!" says Finnick with mock fear.

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

_As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log._

"A hollow leg?" asks Finnick.

"LOG!" Haymitch yells.

_Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping flesh-eaters out of District the woods, they roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow. But there's also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run. _

"Rabid animals?" asks Rue.

"To bits? Really?" gulps Thresh.

"Do you actually scream for him to run? Because then that would mean your physco. Like "AHHHHH. RUNNN."?" Asks Finnick

"Do you hear yourself?" I ask.

"Sometimes. Who else is there better to listen to than me?" asks Finnick.

"Anyone" we all say.

"Wow…harsh." Says Finnick.

_Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would rick it if they had the weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My father would have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're among our best customers. But the idea someone might be arming the Seam would never have been allowed._

"You're a criminal?" asks Finnick in disbelief.

"Technically, yes. If everyone wants to survive, then no." I say.

"You sell your illegal products to authority?" asks Rue, eyes wide.

"They have to survive too." I say defensively.

"Yes, and what better than to survive off illegal meat? I think I'll go get some right now. Katniss, may I borrow your bow?" he asks, before laughing.

"You know what? Sure. I'll get it, and then use it to shoot you." I say.

_In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. "District 12. Where you can starve to death in safety." I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you._

"Wow, the negativity is unbearable." Says Finnick dramatically

"What negativity?" I ask.

"Where you can starve to death in safety. Are you telling me that that's positive?"

"Haymitch, please check that list again. Are you sure he's on there?"

_When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood that this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money, Even at home, where I am less pleasant-_

"WAIT! You're only less pleasant at home? I find that really hard to believe." Says Finnick.

"Did ANYONE ask for your opinion?" I ask.

"See? Unpleasant, right there!" he says

"SHUT UP!" I say.

_I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words, and then where would we be?_

"Some place better than here" Finnick mutters.

"Do you have an off button?" Peeta asks.

"No, because who would want that? I wish Hob over there would have one, though" he says.

I'm not even surprised when no one answers him.

_In the woods waits the only person who I can be myself with. Gale._

"If she's only herself with you, friend, than you must want to kill yourself." Says Finnick.

_I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him wanting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods."Hey, Catnip" says Gale._

"Wait, what?" asks Johanna.

"Cat-nip" laughs Chaff, while Haymitch chuckles.

"I wonder who the cat is" says Rue.

"Catnip? Where the hell did Catnip come from? Really, what kind of name is Catnip?" asks Finnick. Right about now, he starts laughing.

"Catnip…." Mutters Peeta, so that no one can hear him. But I did.


	3. Chapter 3

I did not steal my idea from anyone. Or anything. I really liked the idea, and I hope you all like the story! I do not own anything. Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins, etc etc.

ALSO I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! Things have been really hectic, and anyway, I'm going to be updating a lot more frequently (hopefully).

The Note, or the Death Sentence

Everyone in the room paused, preparing for the next chapter, but no sound came from where Finnick stood outside.

"HELLO?" yelled Haymitch out the window, "ARE YOU GOING TO MAYBE _TELL THE STORY?"_

"HANG ON," he yelled back, "I FOUND A NOTE AT THE BACK!"

"Can someone go let him in, unfortunately?" said Haymitch, resulting in defeated glances all around the room. "What? We need to let him in if we want to see this note."

"What if he's lying?" asked Peeta, "It's more likely that he's lying so he can get back in here."

"THANK YOU PEETA, FOR YOUR UTMOST FAITH," yelled Finnick through the window, "HOWEVER, AS CONVINCING AS YOUR ARGUMENT IS, I AM HOLDING A SHEET OF PAPER THAT SAYS "TO HAYMITCH AND RESPECTED COMPANY," AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE IT THEN I CAN KEEP IT TO MYSELF."

"Can someone just let him in, already?" sighed Gale, "I don't have forever to wait in this diseased room."

"Yeah," added Johanna, "who knows what unknown illness we've all probably contracted by now."

"Thank you both for your kind words," said Haymitch sarcastically, "but seeing as neither of you have gone to open the door, I take it that you, in fact, _enjoy _this room."

"CAN SOMEONE JUST OPEN THE DOOR?" yelled Finnick, "IT'S QUITE COLD OUT HERE."

"Fine," sighed Katniss, and she went to go unlock the door, bringing in a slightly rumpled looking Finnick, with dirt running down the side of his face where he obviously fell. For the first time, however, Finnick wasn't wearing a smirk or anything near a smile; in fact, he looked as though someone had just delivered a notice saying all his loved ones had perished in a fire.

"What's the matter, Finnick, the Capitol forgot to iron your bed sheets today?" asked Johanna sarcastically, "you look like you just got your death sentence."

"That's because I did, technically," he muttered, "see for yourself."

"Wait, what does he mean by death sentence, Haymitch," started Gale, reaching for the note in Finnick's outstretched hand, "he can't be serious."

Haymitch, however, grabbed the note before Gale could. "I don't know, why don't you let me actually read it first," said Haymitch.

_ Dear Haymitch, and Respected Company of Characters,_

_My name is Suzanne Collins. Something you should know about me is that I do not exist in your world; how strange must that sound to you, and I understand that you do not believe me. That is perfectly normal; why should you? You can try and search throughout all your twelve districts, but I will be in none. Why is that? Because I exist in the future. My ancestors have already lived through your story, and they exist among you right now. Your world is a thing of the past, and the only place that I have been able to trace it in is through history books and the stories passed down through my family. But that is unnecessary. The real thing that I would like to discuss with you is these books that I have arranged for you to get promptly at this time. My generation has things such as time travel that enable for this to happen._

_The point of these books, however, is nothing but a warning. The events that will occur within these pages will happen to you. There will be some of you whose deaths will be foretold within the pages of these three novels. Do not be scared; there is nothing you can do to change the course of events that are in here. If you try, you will cease to exist. _

_I feel as though the way each of your stories played out was unjust, and because it is this particular group of people who are currently reading these books that proceeded to make the biggest historical impacts on my society, I feel like you deserve to know what's coming for you. I realize that some of you, upon reading the final pages of Mockingjay, might feel that the story I am telling you is not fair. Please don't try and change the way these events occur. It is very dangerous when one messes with the desired nature of things; trust me, I know._

_So read these books, please do. You can choose not to if that is what you want, that choice is entirely yours. Whether or not you want to know how your fate plays out is a choice that I have now given you access to. You can choose to burn the books, you can destroy them if you want. Just know that it is no one's fate but your own that lies within these pages. If you tell anyone besides who I have carefully instructed to hear the content of these pages, you will die. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Suzanne Collins_

Everyone stayed silent for what felt like years. They all had already known that it was them who were the characters in these novels. None of them, however, could have ever guessed what terrible, terrible things these three books were. Each of them wanted to both burn the books to the ground, and also read each of them over and over again until they had them memorized. None of them, however, wanted to pick them up and continue reading. Who knew who would be the first to die? What would become of that person who had their death foretold to them in a series of embellished words? More importantly, if they did choose to know, what would they do with that information, if they could do nothing to change it?

Finally, after what felt like forever, it was none but Finnick who spoke first.

"Ok, well, that's quite morbid, to be honest, but she is right. It's our choice whether or not we want to read this. So if that clock on Haymitch's diseased wall still works, than that means it's close to lunch time. So this is how it's going to play out," he said, looking up at them all. "We all go to our individual arrangements and eat lunch, but more importantly, we will all decide whether or not we want to stay and continue reading. Those who come back will start the books from where we left off; they will have chosen their fates. But those who do not come back, just know that we will not go back if you decide you want to come back when we've already moved on. These books will be burned after we're done with them, and anyone who chooses today must not tell a soul what lies within these pages. If you do, then you heard what the note said: you'll die. The choice is yours.

"Now go."


End file.
